What If ?
by TheGoldman
Summary: A series of UNRELATED one-shots in the Dragon Age universe. I repeat, each one-shot is unrelated. The characters are different each time, and are not the same. Chapter 4: What if Amell made a deal with Greagoir?
1. Brosca and Leske Tied Up Everd

I don't own Dragon Age.

-.-.-

"Damn it!" Brosca muttered, lunging forward to catch Everd as he tumbled to the floor, reeking like a brewery. She missed, and the man hit his head hard on the stone, knocking himself unconscious.

"Shit," Leske swore. "What do we do now? This guy's too drunk to win the Proving like Beraht wants, and his first fight is in just ten minutes. You got a plan?"

Brosca rubbed her head, running her fingers against the brand burnt onto her cheek underneath the eye, marking her as a casteless dwarf. "Shit ... D'you reckon you'll fit in his armour?"

Leske eyed the armour critically, then looked down at the drunken Everd. "No chance. I'm too short to fit, it'd look like a kid was wearing his armour. The deshyrs would notice easily." Leske looked at the fighter again, then at Brosca. "You might fit, though. And you're always going on about how you're better than any in the Warrior Caste. Just keep his helmet on, and don't speak, and it should all be fine."

Brosca sighed. "Fine, but let's make sure this guy can't get up and ruin everything." She bent down, undoing Everd's belt, and using it to tie his hands to the leg of a chiselled stone bench. Once that was done, she tied his legs to another leg of the bench using the cord she used as a belt. "Now that he's secure, I need you to sort a couple of things out for me. Poison the food and drink of all the other fighters, something that'll slow them a bit but not anything fatal. I've never fought in armour with a decent weapon before, andI'll need every advantage I can get."

As Leske turned to leave, and Brosca bent down to pick up a chainmail shirt, she muttered to herself. "Next time, I'll make sure Beraht's backing a female fighter, or someone Leske's size. See how he likes crossdressing."

-.-.-

Brosca ducked the two-handed horizontal swipe of her opponent's hammer, before darting forward and slamming the weighty shield into him. She'd managed to beat the other dwarves she'd gone up against, and it was just this last guy to beat before she won it all. After Leske had put the draining poison in the food of the fighters, he'd slipped through the crowds to find Beraht and inform him of what was going on. Beraht was unmistakably pissed off, but with Everd and not them. He actually praised their initiative, before warning them. If they fucked this up and got caught, he'd gut them himself.

She hacked at the warrior with her axe, managing to hook the blade onto one of the dwarf's pauldrons. Tugging with all her might, she pulled the man to the ground, before smashing the rim of her shield into his face, knocking the man out.

"The winner of this Proving, is the Warrior Everd, of House Bera!" The Proving Master proclaimed, and Brosca raised a fist in celebration as the crowd cheered. Bowing to the audience, but making sure her helmet was still fully on, she couldn't help but smile. A casteless woman had just completely humiliated the best the Warrior Caste had to offer, and the population loved it.

-.-.-

Once in the changing room again with Leske, Brosca quickly stripped off Everd's gear, sprawling it across the room. The two untied the dwarf and positioned him with a bottle in his hand and several more empty ones scattered around him, making it look like he came in from winning, threw his armour off, and got roaringly drunk in celebration.

It was a good plan, and probably would have worked, but for one small flaw. As they were finishing up, the door opened, and in walked a tall, tanned human. All three froze, staring at one another, before the human spoke.

"Which of you fought in the armour?" His voice was surprisingly deep, and his beard was actually fairly respectable, considering that he was a human and not a dwarf.

Brosca raised a hand hesitantly, and the human raised an eyebrow. "As a Grey Warden, I was highly impressed by your skill. Judging from the brand on your face, I assume it was your first time fighting in armour with those weapons. I would like to offer you a place in the Grey Wardens."

-.-.-

AN: There is no way a pair of skilled, experienced criminals like Leske and Brosca would leave Everd untied, so in this they tie him up. The Proving was for the Wardens, and I think the Wardens would have approached whoever won. It was just their luck that they were still there when Duncan showed up. He doesn't seem the type to care that they were impersonating someone else, that would probably impress him even more.


	2. Jory Had Help

I don't own Dragon Age. I'm going to repeat what I said at the top, this is not the same Brosca as from previous chapters.

-.-.-

"You are called upon to submit yourself to the Taint, for the greater good." Duncan's voice echoed through the clearing. "Daveth, step forward."

Daveth shared a glance with the dwarf who identified herself only as Brosca, then looked at Ser Jory. He shrugged and took hold of the chalice, swallowing a mouthful of the Tainted mixture. Duncan took the chalice from his hands as the thief began to spasm and convulse, foam spitting from his mouth as he collapsed to the floor.

"I am sorry, Daveth." Duncan muttered, bowing his head in respect as Alistair knelt to close the dead man's eyes. "Jory, step forward."

The burly knight from Redcliffe took a step back. "No, there is no glory in this. I ... I have a family. I won't do it." His voice was wavering, and his hand began to twitch nervously by the handle of his sword.

"You lied to us, Duncan." Brosca spoke, her voice low. "You tricked us into a death sentence. Now let us go, before things get ... messy."

Duncan placed the Joining Cup on a table, and rested his hand on his sword's hilt. "I cannot allow you to leave. These are Grey Warden secrets, and we cannot trust you to hold your tongue."

Brosca nodded. "So you'll kill us then?"

Duncan frowned, but nodded. "I will do what I must."

Brosca sprung into action, pulling a pair of throwing knives from her gauntlets and launching them into Duncan's throat. Jory drew his massive greatsword, swinging it down and smashing through Alistair's shield. Brosca then hurled another throwing knife through the eye slit in Alistair's helmet, killing the young man.

Brosca stood still, blood pumping. That fight had been a short one, but exhilarating nonetheless. "Why did you kill them?" Jory asked, hesitantly.

"I would have been the next leader of the Carta. I'd just singlehandedly slaughtered the previous boss, and I was about to declare myself as the new boss, when bloody Duncan and some dwarven soldiers showed up. The bastard forced me to join, invoking the Right of Conscription, when I had the coin and blackmail material in my pocket to make them go away." Brosca knelt by Duncan, and pulled both knives from the man's neck. She then took the man's coin-pouch, and the dagger he wore on his hip.

"I don't know why you're questioning me, anyway. You were the one who made to draw your weapon first, craven." Brosca moved over to Alistair's body, taking her other knife, and repeating the search for coin.

"I am no coward!" Jory protested, hand moving once again towards his sword's hilt. But before he managed to reach it, Brosca had thrown another knife, killing the cowardly knight.

Repeating her actions for Jory's body, and Daveth's for good measure, she turned to leave, muttering to herself. "Now, how best can I get back to Orzammar and take my rightful place in the Carta? I'll need a pair of nugs, a crossbow and a length of rope ..."

-.-.-

AN: In this version, Brosca was keen to take over the Carta, until Duncan intervened. Some of the Wardens really didn't want to Join up (Human Noble would have rather stayed and protected their family, for example). So I thought that she'd help Jory out, but then I realised that Jory wouldn't have the balls to kill Duncan and Alistair. So she killed them both, and ended up killing Jory too because he seemed honourable enough to dob her in to someone.


	3. The Arishok Won

AN: I don't own Dragon Age.

-.-.-

"The relic is returned." The Arishok proclaimed. "I am now free to return to Par Vollen ... with the thief."

"What?" Isabela shouted in shock, stepping away from the qunari.

"She stole the Tome of Koslun. She must return with us."

"No." Hawke stepped forward. "You have your relic. Isabela stays."

"Then you leave me no choice. I challenge you, basalit-an Hawke. You and I will battle to the death, with her as the prize."

"I'm the duellist here, and the one whose life is on the line!" Isabela interrupted. "Duel me, not Hawke."

The Arishok looked at her, contempt clear on his face. "You are not basalit-an. You are unworthy."

Hawke sighed. "I don't want to do this, Arishok. There has been enough death today."

"Then stand aside."

"I can't." He responded. "You would not step aside when Aveline wanted to arrest your criminals, so I will not step aside when you want our criminals."

"Meravas. So shall it be." The Arishok's expression was curious, a mixture between approval for Hawke's willingness to fight for his beliefs and displeasure at the fact that he would have to fight Hawke.

The qunari pushed the noblemen up the stairs, clearing the centre of the viscount's courtroom. Hawke gave a nod to his companions, who followed the noblemen, noting how Varric and Fenris positioned themselves to protect Isabela. Reaching back, he drew the Staff of Parthalan, holding the bladed stave in a one-handed stance. The Arishok drew his massive sword and axe.

At first, both duellists stood still, waiting for the other to move first. Hawke was tapping into his mana, channelling it through him. He knew, from what he'd seen of the Arishok's fighting style, that he'd have to end it quickly. A prolonged battle would quickly drain his mana, and he doubted the Arishok would give him an opportunity to drink a lyrium potion or two.

The Arishok moved first, charging like a bull at Hawke. He rolled to the side, dodging the swinging blades, knowing he couldn't compete in terms of strength. Hawke focused, and threw a fireball at the Arishok's back. The flames danced over the qunari's bronzed skin, but didn't seem to harm him much.

The Arishok spun, scything with both blades, and Hawke leapt away. His normal tactics for dealing with warriors – keep running away and hitting them with magic – wouldn't work, since the Arishok was faster than him. And his tactic for dual-wielding rogues – get up close, using his own strength to overpower them – wouldn't work. The Arishok's sword swung dangerously close, and Hawke used his staff's blade to divert the blow, turning it aside rather than meeting it directly. Hawke stabbed with the blade, managing to slice into the Arishok's bicep, but he didn't seem to notice. The Arishok smashed his fist into Hawke's face, knocking the mage to the floor, while his staff rolled away from him.

Hawke reached into his mana again, throwing an arcane bolt at the Arishok's axe, blasting it from his hand. He reached out with his other hand, focusing on pulling his weapon to him. After a few seconds, it flew to him. He caught it just in time, spinning the blade and using the pommel to knock aside the Arishok's blow, before bashing him in the face. As the Arishok staggered back, Hawke climbed to his feet, blood dripping from his broken nose. He focused his magic, and let out a gasp of pain as his nose re-aligned itself. The Arishok charged in again, and Hawke spun, slicing at his foe. He managed to cut the qunari's torso, drawing a thin line of blood, but the Arishok landed a blow of his own, his sword cutting through Hawke's shoulder.

The Arishok kicked Hawke in the stomach, knocking him down once again, and kicked Hawke's staff away. "Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun." Then he stabbed down with his sword.

-.-Epilogue-.-

With the death of Hawke, the Arishok's men seized Isabela. Varric made to help free her, but Fenris stopped him, reminding him of Hawke's deal. Hawke had agreed that Isabela would be given to the qunari if he lost, and the Arishok would likely destroy Kirkwall if they tried to renege on the deal.

Despite having 'won' Isabela, she managed to escape three weeks later, diving into the ocean. The Arishok assumed she drowned at sea, since they were several miles from the nearest landmass.

Without Hawke to play peacemaker between the mages and the templars, Kirkwall became even worse. Merrill was discovered to be a blood mage, and turned Tranquil. In retaliation, Anders used a bomb made from sela petrae and drakestone, detonating it in the Gallows. Knight-Commander Meredith, Knight-Captain Cullen and First Enchanter Orsino were all slain, and Anders led the surviving mages and Tranquil out of Kirkwall, retreating to the Bone Pit. He was unaware of the existence of the high dragon, however.

-.-.-

I found this one tough to write, purely because I found myself wanting to make Hawke win the fight, even though I'd always planned for him to lose. HThe sentences the Arishok says before he kills Hawke are taken from Sten's dialogue in DA:O, when he used the item Qunari Prayers For The Dead. It translates to "Struggle is an illusion. The tide rises, the tide falls, but the sea is changeless. There is nothing to struggle against. Victory is in the Qun."


	4. Amell Made A Deal With Greagoir

AN: I still don't own Dragon Age.

-.-.-

Marcellus Amell walked out of his meeting with First Enchanter Irving, feeling incredibly proud of himself. He'd passed his Harrowing last night, and Irving had wanted to give him his staff. Right now, the staff was little more than a long, shaped piece of wood, but he'd seen other mages customising theirs in various ways. He was probably going to carve runes in Arcanum along the length of the staff, and pay Owain or one of the other Tranquil to fit a blunted metal tip to the bottom end of his staff, to make it more useful as a walking stick.

He heard running, and turned to see Jowan speeding along the corridor towards him. "I'm so glad I caught up with you. Are you done talking to Irving?"

"Obviously not." Marcellus replied sarcastically. "Can't you see him standing right behind you?"

Jowan actually turned to look, and Marcellus laughed at him. "You're hilarious, Marc."

Marcellus scowled. "I've told you a thousand times before, don't call me Marc. It's Marcellus."

"I need some help, Marcellus." Jowan said. "Can we talk, in private?"

Marcellus sighed. "Sure, Jowan. Let's go to my room."

-.-.-

Marcellus flopped onto the bed of his new room. Unlike the apprentices, he actually had a bed that didn't have another bunk, and a wardrobe to keep his spare robes in. Jowan sat down on the chair by Marcellus' desk.

"So, Jowan, what's the problem?" Marcellus asked.

"I've got a girlfriend." Jowan admitted, but before he could say any more, Marcellus interrupted.

"And you don't know where to put it, so you turned to me to show you how it's done." Marcellus said with a wink.

Jowan scowled and punched him in the arm. "No, you pervert! She found out that ... they're going to put me through the Rite of Tranquility!"

Marcellus understood the problem at once. The Rite of Tranquility was the fear of every unharrowed mage. "When?"

"I don't know." Jowan said. "It's going to be soon, she says."

"What for?" Marcellus asked. Mages only went through the Rite of Tranquility if the templars thought the mage was incapable of succeeding their Harrowing, or if the mage asked for it.

"You've heard the rumours." Jowan replied gravely. "People think I'm a blood mage, and the templars believe it."

"Are you?" Marcellus asked curiously.

"Of course not!" Jowan replied indignantly. "How could you think that about me?"

"Well, everyone else believed it." Marcellus replied. "What are you going to do to convince people you're not a blood mage?"

"I had an idea." Jowan said.

"What?"

"I run away from the Circle."

Marcellus stared at Jowan in shock. "You're insane."

"Please, we need your help." Jowan begged.

"Who's 'we'? And what can I do, I've only just been Harrowed?" Marcellus asked, not at all keen on this plan.

"My girlfriend and I." Jowan said. "We want to break into the repository, and destroy my phylactery. Then we can live together in peace, without the templars tracking me down."

"What do you want me to do?" Marcellus asked. He wanted to know exactly what he was getting into before he agreed to anything.

"We need a Rod of Fire, but I can't get one from Owain. He says that only Harrowed mages, who have a note from a Senior Enchanter, can borrow one from the stockroom."

"I'll see what I can do. Meet me back here in an hour."

-.-.-

Once Jowan left, Marcellus waited for a minute before heading straight to Irving's office. He wasn't about to put his life on the line by helping Jowan break out. Anders might be able to get away with it, but he wasn't that stupid. Even Anders wouldn't break into the repository. Plus, he knew when Jowan was lying. He'd known the fellow mage since he'd arrived at the Circle, and Jowan was lying about the blood magic. He didn't have any proof, but he was sure that the rumours were true.

Jowan knocked on the First Enchanter's door, and was called in a minute later.

"Ah, Marcellus my boy, what brings you back here so soon?" Irving asked, a grandfatherly smile across his face as his eyes twinkled.

"Sir, I'd like to report something to you." Marcellus said nervously. He wasn't quite comfortable with turning Jowan in, but he had to. "Jowan plans to break into the repository and destroy his phylactery."

"I know." Irving nodded.

"Then you'll know he wants me to get him a Rod of Fire." Marcellus informed him.

Irving looked to be deep in thought. "I see ... the Rod of Fire will not help you to enter the repository through the door. The door only works when Greagoir and I work together to open the seals, using our keys. The Rod of Fire will not be able to cut through the lock."

Marcellus grinned. "So even if Jowan got his hands on one, his plan wouldn't work. That's a relief. What are you going to do about him?"

"I would like you to help him." Irving said, stroking his beard as he leant back.

"What? Why?"

"Jowan has an accomplice, his girlfriend Lily." Irving said. "It was her idea to break into the repository, and she has been inciting him. But I have not been able to provide enough evidence for Greagoir to believe me, so I need to catch them in the act. I cannot give them the Rod directly, so I will need your help."

Marcellus nodded. "So you want me to give him the Rod?"

"And go with him into the repository, to ensure that both of them are caught leaving."

Marcellus frowned. "Won't I be caught 'trying to escape' as well?"

"I will vouch for you." Irving promised.

Marcellus shook his head. "Everyone knows that I'm your prodigy. To Greagoir, it'll seem like you're just trying to protect me."

Irving nodded. "I see your point."

"Maybe we could speak to Greagoir now, and make sure that he's in on the plan?" Marcellus suggested.

"That is a good idea." Irving agreed. "Let us go and find him, then."

-.-.-

"So the blood mage plans to break into the repository?" Greagoir asked in confirmation. "We should force him into the Rite of Tranquility immediately."

"No, Greagoir." Irving disagreed. "Your initiate Lily is violating her vows to go with him, and it is her idea. She is leading him in this."

"I do not believe this." Greagoir said, shaking his head.

"My apprentice, Marcellus, was approached by Jowan, to help them. He came straight to me." Irving said, gesturing to Marcellus, who was sat next to him.

"Your loyalty to the Circle is appreciated, mage Amell." Greagoir said, nodding his head in respect.

"I would have Marcellus help them, so we can catch them in the act." Irving suggested.

"Very well." Greagoir said. "We shall head into the repository now. Encourage them to break in by using the Rod of Fire to burn a hole through the back wall. Once they climb through, my men will surround them before they get a chance to destroy the phylactery."

"Thank you for coming to us, Marcellus." Irving said. "We will remember this."

-.-End-.-

AN: So, another What If is done. I wondered why, even when you approached Irving, Greagoir still didn't believe you. Or, if they knew Jowan was going for his phylactery, they didn't switch it out for pig's blood or something. It would be more successful than LETTING HIM DO IT! It would be evidence enough when they broke through the wall, wouldn't it? Marcellus, a mage Irving sees as the future First Enchanter of the Circle, would go on to be approached by Duncan, but he'd turn him down. Duncan would instead recruit another mage (either Surana or Anders), who would become the Warden instead. Marcellus survives Uldred's uprising, and fights in the Battle of Denerim.


End file.
